“‘When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.’”
The physician gave only a heavy-eyed “Humph!” and a faint look of amusement.
“What did she say?” said Richling; the words had escaped his ear. The Doctor repeated it, and Richling, too, smiled.
Yet it was a good speech,—why not? But the patient also smiled, and turned her eyes toward the wall with a disconcerted look, as if the smile might end in tears. For herein lay the very difficulty that always brought the Doctor’s carriage to the door,—the cradle would not rock.
For a few days more that carriage continued to appear, and then ceased. Richling dropped in one morning at Number 3½ Carondelet, and settled his bill with Narcisse.
The young Creole was much pleased to be at length brought into actual contact with a man of his own years, who, without visible effort, had made an impression on Dr. Sevier.
Until the money had been paid and the bill receipted nothing more than a formal business phrase or two passed between them. But as Narcisse delivered the receipted bill, with an elaborate gesture of courtesy, and Richling began to fold it for his pocket, the Creole remarked:—
“I ’ope you will excuse the ’an’-a-’iting.”
Richling reopened the paper; the penmanship was beautiful.
“Do you ever write better than this?” he asked. “Why, I wish I could write half as well!”